


Scars

by nhasablog



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Scars, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: He looked at his cousin now, a smile still lingering on his lips. “Would you let me touch them?”Erik didn’t even quirk a brow at the odd request. “Why would you even want that?”T’Challa shrugged. “It’s important to nurture even past mistakes, to show appreciation for the change they inevitably brought.”(Or, T’Challa is intrigued by Erik’s scars and asks to touch them.)





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> AU where everything is FINE after Black Panther and Erik stays in Wakanda.

T’Challa knew that staring at Erik’s scars wasn’t the most polite or even subtle pastime he could engage in, but he found himself unable to stop. After each time he was caught, or his attention captured briefly by something else, his gaze would always return to his cousin’s arm or shoulder or, on those occasions Erik was wearing less clothes than usual, his chest or back. T’Challa became, for a lack of a better word, obsessed with them and how they had ended up on Erik’s skin.

He wasn’t surprised when Erik brought it up, though he was confused when he didn’t snap at him to stop like T’Challa felt he should’ve.

“I wish you’d stop looking at them.”

T’Challa didn’t even consider denying it. “Why?”

Erik met his eyes easily, an action he’d had trouble with for the first few months he’d been staying in Wakanda after everything due to obvious reasons. “I’m not saying I regret them,” he started. “I can’t regret something that felt so right at the time, as awful as it sounds. But they’re part of a different life. A not very good life. I hate being reminded of them every time I can feel your gaze on them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S’all right. At least you’re not being fleeting about it. I can appreciate that.”

“You do realize I don’t look at them to condemn you. Nor to pity you.”

“Right.”

“They intrigue me.”

Erik snorted. “Why?”

T’Challa managed a half smile. “Doesn’t tragedy capture man’s attention?”

“You think this is about tragedy.”

“I think it’s about mistakes brought on by tragedy.”

Erik hummed. “Aren’t you going to tell me I could’ve chosen to not make those mistakes?”

“We cannot change the past. I see no reason to be so cruel.”

“I took your kingdom from you,” Erik said, a phrase he’d uttered before. “And yet I cannot see any trace of anger or rage whenever you look at me. Why?”

T’Challa didn’t sigh or roll his eyes tiredly, merely repeated what he’d kept replying. “You did what you thought was your duty. My father’s mistakes. Your father’s mistakes. All interlacing. I do not blame you for simply trying to survive, and then do more.”

“You know,” Erik interrupted. “Sometimes I can’t decide if I wanna punch you in your stupidly wise mouth or hug the shit out of you.”

T’Challa let out a laugh. “I admit I would prefer the latter.”

Their relationship had grown slowly, but a year after the chaotic first meeting they might as well have grown up together. Even Shuri had warmed up to him, once it became clear that this wasn’t some elaborate revenge plan that was simply taking too long. Still, there were certain things that would always leave one of them defensive or withdrawn, and they had learned to be okay with that. Mostly T’Challa.

He looked at his cousin now, a smile still lingering on his lips. “Would you let me touch them?”

Erik didn’t even quirk a brow at the odd request. “Why would you even want that?”

T’Challa shrugged. “It’s important to nurture even past mistakes, to show appreciation for the change they inevitably brought.”

Erik was shaking his head. “You make everything sound deep. It’s annoying.” But he didn’t say no, and soon enough moved closer to his cousin where they were sitting against the wall of the mountain. “Don’t be weird about it.”

T’Challa reached out before he could change his mind and let his fingertips collide with Erik’s arm. He was still as T’Challa ran his fingers downward gently, feeling every bump on the skin. Every mistake his cousin had made.

He stopped at Erik’s elbow to catch his eye, and when Erik didn’t make a move to pull his hand away T’Challa moved upward again, this time passing his starting point and feeling the scars at his shoulder. If he could he would caress them all, simply to show his cousin that, while his mistakes were grave, they didn’t define him anymore.

Erik shuddered as he journeyed over his back, and T’Challa might’ve paused or grinned had he not been so absorbed in his task. It was only once he reached his lower back and his cousin started squirming that he realized he might’ve crossed a line he hadn’t been aware of.

He withdrew his hand immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Erik said quickly. “I just-” He cut himself off, as if regretting whatever direction his sentence had been going in.

T’Challa was more curious than concerned, he had to admit. “What is it?”

Erik seemed reluctant, and even though T’Challa wasn’t forcing him to tell he wasn’t one to keep the truth from people close to him, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

“I’m sensitive there, s’all.”

T’Challa had engaged in enough touchy activities in his life to know what that meant. “Is that so?”

Erik shot him a look. “Stop grinning at me.”

T’Challa raised his hand to cover his mouth, but couldn’t stop the grin from growing even more. “Sorry.”

Erik bumped his shoulder into his. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“You don’t know me very well if you believe I won’t take advantage of this information. I am a big brother, after all.” T’Challa reached out, fully aware of the fact that this would’ve been an impossible situation to be in only a few months ago. Erik batted his hand away before he could do anything.

“Don’t,” he warned, and T’Challa laughed.

“You’re making me believe you can’t handle a bit of tickling.”

“You’re mean. How your people aren’t aware of it is beyond me.”

T’Challa grabbed for Erik, but only to put his arm around him and pull him closer. “I won’t tell anyone about your sensitivity, don’t worry.”

Erik squirmed in his half-embrace, elbow digging into T’Challa’s side. “Let go of me, you pest.”

“And you call me mean? Here I am, just wanting to show you love and affection, and you treat me this horribly?”

Erik was too busy laughing to reply. T’Challa reckoned it was because of the fingers he was wiggling over his cousin’s ribs, but he couldn’t be sure.

“And now you are laughing at me? Rude, Erik. Very rude.”

Erik managed to pull himself out of T’Challa’s grip, still laughing as the fingers occasionally grazed his skin before he was out of T’Challa’s reach. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“That is not a promise I’m going to keep, so I’m not even going to pretend.” T’Challa reached out quickly again, his fingertips brushing against Erik’s side. Erik recoiled, and T’Challa could imagine the brief unbearably light sensation against sensitive skin. He didn’t blame Erik for holding up his hands defensively now.

“Stop it,” he begged, but T’Challa wasn’t done.

“I wasn’t finished examining your scars,” he said simply before grabbing Erik’s wrists with one hand, his other circling his belly. “There’s one, two-”

Erik pulled hard enough to topple T’Challa over, both of them half-lying on the ground and laughing for entirely different reasons. T’Challa’s hands started squeezing Erik’s sides, and he scrambled to twist away from his grip, but found it rather hard since T’Challa had thrown a leg over his.

“Stop!” he cried, his walls down and laughter pouring out freely. “Come ohohon!”

T’Challa wasn’t even bothering to pretend he was doing this for the scars anymore. “Where else are you ticklish?”

“Nowhere!”

“I don’t believe you.”

T’Challa smirked at him, though he doubted Erik could tell from the way he had thrown his head back. He moved one hand upward to flutter his fingers over Erik’s neck, watching him try to scrunch up his shoulders with delight. It wasn’t working. Not really. As soon as Erik got some sort of relief, T’Challa switched spots, throwing him into a new giggle fit. Yes, realizing Erik could giggle was his favorite part of it all.

“Do you happen to have scars on the bottoms of your feet? I’d love to see them.”

“No more!” Erik pleaded, kicking T’Challa’s hands away and successfully escaping in the process. “I beg of you, no more.”

T’Challa didn’t try to catch him again, only sat back and laughed. “I didn’t know it was so easy to break you.”

Erik pointed at him. “I’ll let you off the hook this once. And you’re never touching my scars again.”

“It’s all right. I am satisfied.”

He wasn’t really, but he could respect Erik’s wishes.

He looked at the sky. Saw it darkening. “We should go back.”

“I’m kind of scared of walking beside you.”

“You have my word that I will not exploit my knowledge of your sensitive spots for the rest of the night.” He gave Erik a light nudge, though not light enough to tickle. “Now come on.”

T’Challa should’ve expected Erik to tackle him as soon as they reached the palace, but he hadn’t, and therefore let out a very unkingly yelp when they hit the ground and fingers found his ribs.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


End file.
